


Caught in the Fire

by interstelklance (ravenlily)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Lance (Voltron), Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Top Keith (Voltron), Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-06-29 15:51:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19833451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenlily/pseuds/interstelklance
Summary: “You still working on this case?”Lance heaves a big sigh before shoving his brain in the direction of work instead of Keith.“Yeah, man. I just can’t seem to crack it. It’s all in front of me - I can feel it. I’m just missing something.”—————Lance is a detective with a penchant for trouble - and only time will tell if he and everyone he cares about will make it out alive.





	1. Through the Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate working title of this fic: Every Trope I Can Put My Grubby Little Hands On.

Lance - Station 46, Third Floor

Lance considers himself a patient man. He’s been through two-year-long investigations that stopped cold in their tracks, only to find some minuscule hint, some small flicker of evidence, that pointed him in the right direction—that turned that ice into a wildfire. He leans back against his desk, white shirtsleeves rolled up to ward off some of the heat, gun harness a familiar weight on his back. He takes a big breath in and slowly releases it, willing the board pinned with papers in front of him to tell him its secrets. It can’t be that hard, right? There has to be some rhyme or reason why these people just - died. 

He’s exhausted, okay? Maybe he’s been pulling too many shifts, staying up just a little later to go over some paper he might’ve misread the first fifteen times, and maybe he’s asked Keith to bring him no fewer than 10 triple shot espressos this week. And, yeah, Keith has started to get on him about it. He’s… well, he’s not wrong, and Lance can admit it, okay? He’s just… motivated. Lance feels like he’s slacking if he’s not tackling more than one project at once, and this theory—well. It didn’t earn him any friends in high places, that’s for sure. 

He’s pulled too many people in, let his net catch just a little too wide and—Lance’s thoughts are interrupted by a familiar panting, the soft thud of boots on wood. He glances up just in time to see the dynamic duo that crashes into his ‘office’ on a daily basis. 

“Hey, Red.”

Kosmo doesn’t quite leave Keith’s space, but his tail wags harder and a head bumps into his hands, grey and white fur slides effortlessly through his fingers. He sure wishes it was-

“Hey, Lance. Here’s that coffee you wanted.” 

Keith slips the cup into his hand, his purple grey eyes taking in the board as he leans back next to Lance. He’s not supposed to notice how good his best friend smells, right? That’s, like, in the top ten of the ‘how to know you’re gay for someone’ list. It has to be. Also, he’s been doing this new thing with his hair and-

“When did you learn to braid?”

Keith gives him a sideways glance with a raised brow.

“Last week, when you couldn’t sleep and sent me 36 how-to videos at 3 a.m.”

“Ah.”

“How’d I do? I wanted to go with a fishtail, but it seemed like a bit much.”

“Nah, dude, it’s - cool. Super cool.”

Lance isn’t sweating at all. Nooooope. He can’t see Keith’s neck, can’t imagine nuzzling his face there, can’t vividly picture putting his mouth-

“Hmph. Well, you could always give me some pointers if it’s wrong. I couldn’t quite figure out how to section it all out to be honest.”

_Sweet Quiznack._

“Y-yeah I have a couple days off this week, I could probably show you how it’s done. If you wanna come chill or something? We’ve been meaning to watch that one movie - what’s it called?”

“Pride and Prejudice?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Sounds good,” Keith doesn’t quite sound hesitant, but he’s turned his attention back to the board. 

“You still working on this case?”

Lance heaves a big sigh before shoving his brain in the direction of _work_ instead of _Keith_.

“Yeah, man. I just can’t seem to crack it. It’s all in front of me - I can feel it. I’m just _missing_ something.”

“Well...”

“Yeeeeees?”

“You know, instead of having a movie day, we could take a drive. I know you like taking the bikes out. Maybe it’ll help clear your head instead of looking at this thing.”

Lance takes it in, rolls the flavor of their conversation in his mind - and listen, he’s good at picking out the details. But realistically, sometimes you need a different perspective to bring it all together. 

In a flash he’s around his desk, digging through files, flinging papers that don’t catch his eye.

“Keith, I will take that ride and— _sonofabitch where is it?_ _—_ _and_ I’ll treat you to dinner tonight. You beautiful bastard! I can’t-”

He pops up with a small journal and snags two files from the top of his desk before bodily grabbing Keith, lifting him up in some kind of weird interpretive dance and swinging him through the room. Keith laughs, taking it all in stride, meeting in the middle with red cheeks and _god_ what Lance wouldn’t give to kiss him senseless. 

“I’m not sure what I did,” he says through a smile brighter than the sun, “but I’m glad I could help—hey, where are you going?”

But Lance is already picking up his things and lunging towards the door. If only he could escape his feelings as easily as he does this room. 

“I gotta go see Pidge! I’ll see you at the diner tonight!”

He misses the fond smile Keith gives him on the way out. 

***

Keith - Station 46, Third Floor - Shiro’s Office

Keith tidies up Lance’s desk before he goes to see Shiro; it’ll drive him insane if he comes back to it like this. Kosmo, as usual, is no help and Keith tells him so while the husky grabs what’s left of a half eaten bagel sandwich. Files upon files upon notes upon journals upon stickies upon—well. Lance is organized chaos. 

He makes a small motion with his hand and Kosmo is up at his side in a flash, happily trotting through the station as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. Keith sees the closed door, but peeping in reveals it’s just a phone call and he’s never been one to let that stop him. He steps into Shiro’s spacious office, taking in the black and white haired man in front of him.

“I’ll just be a minute,” he mouths, hand over one end of the receiver and glasses slightly askew. 

Keith gives him a thumbs up and wanders over to the bookshelf along one wall crammed with family photos and trinkets from the places they’ve been. Adam, his… well, he’s Shiro’s husband, and Shiro is his brother, but Adam doesn’t _feel_ like a brother-in-law. He’s just - Adam. Solid and _there_ , a grounding presence in his life since he turned 15, but also the person that convinced him that putting salt in Shiro’s sugar bowl next to the coffee maker was a good idea. 

He loves them both—just. So much. He’s hit with a wave of feelings as he maps out their lives displayed here: the camping trip that ended with Keith and Shiro _covered_ in bug bites while Adam laughed at them from inside his tent; the vacation they spent at the beach, where Keith lit up like a neon sign after just a few hours in the sun; the wedding — and here, his face gets a little red. Because it’s all of them: Shiro, Adam, Hunk, Pidge, Shay, Keith… Lance. And God, just thinking about Lance in that _suit_ is doing things to him, okay? He was a walking masterpiece and Keith felt like his head was about to explode the whole damn day. 

Keith quickly moves on, only to catch a picture of himself: 19, recent academy graduate, in his brand new uniform, slurping Adam’s homemade spaghetti. He laughs a bit under his breath at how ridiculous it is that Shiro put this damn photo in his office, because _of course_ he would.

An arm slings itself around his neck as Shiro deposits _at least_ half his body weight onto him.

“What are you laughing about over here, huh? That one’s a gem.”

“Uh huh. Which is why you didn’t tell me it was in here.”

“Well, I know how you get.”

“Shiro, I will kick your sentimental ass.”

“See? You’re so disrespectful. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were raised with wolves.”

“Have you lived with you and Adam? I was.”

“See? Ungrateful. You know, you could stand to be a little more sentimental.”

“I think you’ve got that covered for both of us.”

“Now, just hear me out,” he pauses, like he’s weighing whatever subject he’s about to bring up. A sly smile takes over his face, and in all honesty, it makes Keith want to take a step back. But it can’t be that bad, right? He’s been keeping up with his caseload, things are going really well at home, and Kosmo hasn’t eaten a sock in three days. He stands his ground. 

“I think you should ask Lance out sometime.”

He takes it back. He needs a drink. Ten of them. And a chaise lounge to dramatically fall into. Maybe Lance _is_ rubbing off on him, but he’ll rewind on that later. For now though- 

“Shiro...”

“I know, I know. But I think if you just gave it a shot-”

“Oh, yes, I love the sweet taste of rejection early in the morning. Goes well with my coffee.”

“-I think you’d see he feels the same way. You don’t see the way he looks at you. And, Keith. Have I ever steered you wrong?”

“Well, there was that one time in Santa Cruz-”

“ _Not_ the point. I just… don’t want to see you guys circle around each other for years.”

Keith looks up at that. He knows that tone of voice, knows where those memories go. 

“You mean like you and Adam did? Shiro, you know he-”

“I know, Keith. I just want you to learn from my mistakes. I don’t want you to hurt like we did. I just want you to be happy, kiddo.”

Shiro doesn’t call him that often. ‘Kiddo’. He used to hate it, used to constantly fight back and sling insults before he knew they weren’t going to leave him. Shiro uses it when he’s being serious, when he truly wants Keith to listen, when they’re on equal footing and has something to say. 

He walks back around his desk as his secretary comes in with a tall cup of coffee. 

“Thanks, Hira, you’re a lifesaver. Keith - just think about it, okay?”

Hira spares him a commiserating glance—so he’s been doing this to other people lately. Keith lets out a breath of air.

“No problem. We’re actually having dinner tonight, so...”

“Wait, _what_ -”

“It’s just at the diner but… maybe I’ll talk to him about it. See if… we could have a real dinner sometime.”

Shiro laughs as he brings the cup to his lips.

“How did you wrangle him away from his desk long enough for dinner? He’s been staring at that board for days.”

“Oh, yeah, he had some sort of epiphany earlier. Ran off to Pidge before he even told me what it was, but apparently he owes me dinner.” 

“Huh,” Shiro looks at him again. “You better go get ready, then, because his shift is over in an hour.”

“ _Shit_ , see you later, Shiro!”

He whips out of the room, Kosmo hot on his heels. A burning hope lights his chest and burns his eyes because, for the first time… he feels like he has a chance. 

“Have fun!” Shiro yells after him, slowly bringing the cup back to his lips. 

Hira slips back into the office in his wake.

***

Lance - Station 46, Basement - Lab 1

When Lance makes his entrance, Pidge is elbow deep in tech parts while furiously tapping away at her keyboard. She doesn’t even notice him—at least until there’s a triple chocolate muffin with raspberry sauce plopped in front of her. 

“Hey, Pidgeon,” he walks around to the chair opposite her, dropping his stack of paperwork and swinging it around closer to the table. “How’s my favorite member of the Geek Squad?”

“Don’t play coy with me, McClain. We both know Hunk is your favorite. What _I_ wanna know is what you’re doing here—and what exactly you need from me that involves a fifteen dollar muffin. How did you even get this thing here still warm?”

Lance winks as he leans the chair back, sliding her the other half of his gift: tickets to the VIP section of the next tech conference. 

“I have my ways.”

“Holy crap—Lance do you know how hard these are to come by? Wh- how-”

“Like I said, I have my ways, Pidgey. But you’re right, I _do_ need something. Like, ‘Biggest Favor Of My Life’ kind of favor.”

“I’ll give you my hypothetical, never-gonna-happen, first born for this. Anything else you need is yours. Hit me.”

“Well...” he hesitates. This could put her in danger, and while he’s fine with spending some of his savings on tickets and muffins for a good cause… he doesn’t want her to go in blind. “Pidge, this could be dangerous. I’m serious,” he says as she’s about to interrupt him. “People could kill you for this.”

Pidge eyes him carefully before shoving a giant scoop of muffin into her mouth. 

“Like I said, anything you need is yours, Lance. We’ve been friends for too long for me to let you keep something _dangerous_ to yourself. Especially if someone is gonna wanna kill you over it. Dude, you know I’m already in it.”

Lance sighs and runs a hand through his hair, before slowly straightening and flipping to the last part of his journal—this part different from the rest. He has papers taped together with writing scribbled in the margins, highlighter striking bright the parts he needs. 

“Pidge… please be careful. Okay?”

“Okay, okay, just hand it over, you mother hen, I’ll be fine. It can’t be-”

Pidge spends approximately 30 seconds going over what he has before ripping it out and running over to one of the large metal tables, pulling a lighter from her pocket, and setting it on fire. 

“Lance, do you know what you’re suggesting? Do you- do you actually kno-”

“Yeah, Pidge. I’m - I’m not gonna lie. I’m scared as shit. But- you saw that. It all fits. And I need your help. Please.”

Pidge takes a deep breath before walking over to stand in front of him, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

“Tell me what you need.”

***

Keith - Sally’s Diner 

Keith has been here for an hour, and while he’d normally be fine with waiting—taking in the music, chatting with their waitress Li’ya, or sampling some pre dinner ice cream—he’s nervous as hell. Lance was supposed to meet him after work, but in all his excitement, he probably got held over. Pidge and Lance were like that sometimes. They got absorbed in work, in perfection. They both had people around them to pull them out of the fire, though, and Hunk’s shift was starting soon. 

Keith laughed softly to himself and swiped over on his handheld because—well, a call couldn’t hurt, right? 

He pressed his finger to Lance’s name, a candid picture of him laying in a hammock with ice cream on his nose overtaking the screen. He no sooner got it to his ear, when Lance’s voice came through: “Hey! It’s ya boy, Lancey Lance! Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you soon!”

Straight to voicemail. He never had his phone on silent or do not disturb or—you know what? He should just call Pidge. He taps her name as his fingers start to drum on the table.

_Everything’s fine. You’re just being paranoid_.

“Hey, Keith. Why are you calling me? Aren’t you supposed to be on a date with Lance right now?”

“Wh- _no_ ! Pidge, it’s not a date! It’s just - it’s dinner but not _dinner_ and- anyway, not the point! Have you seen Lance?”

“Uh, yeah, he stopped by earlier, but he was on his way out, I think. Had to see Shiro about something, but he might’ve just got caught up. Maybe give him a call?”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks, Pidge.”

“No problem, dude,” she says as there’s some ruffling around on the other end. “Hunk just got here for his shift, he wants to know when you guys are gonna go over this month’s book. He’s been raving about it since he walked in so _please_ make it soon.”

“Uhhhhh,” he fiddles with his braid, mentally going through their schedules. “I think he’s off tomorrow, so let him know I can swing by after work and pick up some of those sushi rolls we like.”

Hunk’s voice rings in through the background, “Keith, I would die for you, buddy! See you at my place, 6 o’clock!”

“Alright, I’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

He hangs up the call and stares at the display screen for a minute: it’s a picture of him and Lance, sitting in the sand at Varadero. He’d spent a week there with him this past spring and, if he’s being honest with himself, he’s still kicking himself for not taking the leap there. Shaking his head, Keith thumbs through his phone to find Shiro; only to see him walking through the door. 

_Wait_.

“Shiro? What the hell are you doing here?”

He’s disheveled, his eyes wide and slightly bloodshot, his hair is a mess, and he’s missing his tie.

“Keith.”

“Shiro, what’s wrong?” He stands up, gripping his metal arm and guiding him over to the booth.

“Keith,” he starts, then stops. He rubs a hand over his mouth, eyes filling with tears before he blinks them away. “I need you to promise me you won’t do anything rash, okay? There’s just- there’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“Shiro- I- I- I need you to tell me what’s going on, you’re scaring me.” His fingers are trembling. 

_I’ve never seen him like this. Oh god, what if something happened to Adam? What about Pidge and Hunk? Maybe_ -

“Keith… it’s Lance.”

“... what do you mean?”

“There was- there was an accident. And-”

Suddenly, Keith starts laughing, poking Shiro’s side. “Listen, I don’t know if he thought this would be a good prank, but I promise it’s not, so-”

“Keith.”

It’s the way that Shiro says his name that stops him. 

Everything in between this moment and the next gets seared into his head: the reddish pink glow of the sunset coming through the window, the coffee cup sliding down the counter to a patron, the crinkle of the cheap paper placemat between his fingers. Shiro’s eyes are the color of stone, but brimming with water, his hands—one metal, one flesh—are so so _so_ gentle as they come up to cup Keith’s face.

“He’s gone.”


	2. It Haunts Our Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith, and the life spent living after a friend is gone.

Keith is lying on his back, breaths slowly drawing out of him to mingle with the man above. There are fingers, dexterous and long, dancing through his hair as their owner laughs lightly and continues with what he was saying. A feeling of calm contentedness fills him, the murmur of words and promises on the edge of his tongue. 

So he opens his eyes. 

Slowly, he blinks up, and violet eyes meet blue. Tan skin, crinkled in the corners with a smile as he leans closer, closer, _closer_ and their noses bump, his heart leaping into his chest as -

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Keith’s hand wildly swings out, sending his phone off his nightstand and clattering onto the floor somewhere. He stares up at the ceiling, gently clutching his chest as it hits him like it does every morning— _Lance is gone_. The grief settles over him like a well worn blanket. 

He sighs and sits up. 

And meets the dawn again.

***

Keith moves his way into the precinct, barely missing a new officer on his way in with a penchant for conversation - which, while useful in some situations, distinctly is _not_ when you’re running late with two coffees. And even though Keith is running late, he still makes time to go to the labs - because, even after 5 months… he still has two coffees. And Hunk or Pidge would never judge him.

Not for this.

He walks through the doors backwards, pushing it open and swinging around just in time to see Hunk’s grimacing face as he chews on a bagel.

“Not again… Hunk,” he says as he plunks the hot black coffee in front of him, “You know those things are terrible.”

“Man, how can they be so awful? Who decided blueberry cream cheese, spinach, and bacon bagels should be a thing? I think I might be sick.”

“Well, I brought you some coffee to wash it down.”

“You brought me _black_ coffee, didn’t you?”

“Well...”

“In hindsight, I’m not sure why I asked.” He reaches into a drawer and pulls out the creamer and some sugar packets. “We’re really a mess, huh?”

“You can say that again. But I ordered my own coffee today so...”

“Hey man, progress is progress. I’m proud of you.”

“I know, Hunk. And speaking of progress - you've gotta stop ordering those bagels. I think they might _actually_ kill you.”

“I made my own yesterday and you know? Still just as awful. It’s just - Keith, they were his favorites. And-”

“I know. C’mere.”

Hunk sniffles a bit as Keith leans in for a hug—turns out, Hunk gives the _best_ ones… and Keith wishes it hadn’t taken a funeral to make him realize it. 

When there’s not enough left of your friend to have an open casket, it leaves its scars. 

“I’m sorry, big guy.”

“It’s okay. Just… one of those days, you know?”

“Yeah,” he says as he pulls his chair around. “I know.” Keith slips a beat up paperback out of his bag, flipping through it until he finds what he’s looking for. “Do you want to talk about chapter 37? Because-”

Hunk’s eyes go wide and he sits up straight, his face finally breaking in with a smile that _actually_ reminds Keith of the sun. Bagel forgotten, he goes for his own bag in a rush, his movements excited and only a hint of heaviness to his shoulders. “Dude, the part where they almost kissed but got interrupted by the sister? I’m still livid. Abso _lutely_ fuming. How can they be so blind and _then_ pretend like nothing happened and—okay, did you catch the color of the flowers? Because I think the author is using that as a-”

“A reference to the state of their relationship? _Yes_!”

“Exactly! I really think...”

They pass their time comparing notes and theories and the true meaning of colors, until Shiro comes stomping down to the labs to yell at them to get to work.

***

Keith slowly makes his way up the sidewalk to his door, keys jingling quietly in his hand as Kosmo patrols the yard before they make it inside. He drops his bag next to the door and toes off his shoes. It’s well after midnight, and really, he should've stopped hours ago but—well. Some things are worth the morning exhaustion, but some dreams are worth having. He’s really balancing on a knife’s edge, pushing himself like this. He grabs a glass of water from the kitchen before making his way to the living room and settling down on the floor.

“Kosmo! C’mere!” The click of fast toes on the floor are the only warning he gets before a blur of grey and white fur is throwing all 80 pounds of itself on top of him. “You overgrown mutt!” He laughs as he wrestles the dog off of him, snagging a brush off a nearby table.

Kosmo sets in front of him as Keith works, a steady presence in his heart that soothes the rough edges of grief for the moment. He scoots forward with a tilt of his head, laying it on Keith’s shoulder and nosing into his hair with a small whine… and Keith is reminded all over again how much he loves Kosmo. His hands dig into soft fur as he wraps his arms around him, content in the companionship and comfort offered.

When Keith finally disentangles himself from his dog, he goes to brush his teeth and let down his hair. He stares in the mirror, taking in the darker circles, the slightly rougher appearance.

_I don’t really look like my soul is screaming, huh?_

He flips off the light and makes his way to bed, letting Kosmo up just to have someone else with him. 

He dreams of Lance. He tries not to hate the dreams. They tear at the weak edges of him, the sorrow that will eventually dull into a background noise, the hole where his heart barely beats. 

But it’s the only way he can see him now, and while he hates how it makes him feel, he loves the look in his crinkled eyes, the smile that could rival a supernova, the soft but calloused hands on his skin. 

So Keith holds them close, feels the burning in his soul.

And wakes to meet the dawn. 

***

When Keith pulls into work with one black coffee and a triple shot espresso in the morning, the only one giving him a judgmental look is Kosmo—right up until he makes it to the front door and Adam is there waiting for him.

“C’mon, hot shot, you’re taking the day off,” he says as he pushes Keith’s shoulders around, gently shoving him towards the parking lot again.

“Wh- Adam, what the hell-”

“Nope! No arguments! Takashi already cleared you for the day.”

“Like he’d say no to you.”

“Well, that _is_ one of the perks of marrying the hot police captain. Let’s go.”

Keith sighs and stops dragging his feet because, as much as he loves Adam, once he gets an idea in his head, he won’t let it go.

“So,” he says as he’s climbing into the car, “What’s the plan here?”

“Oh, you know. Some light family bonding time. I feel like we haven’t done much lately. I was thinking some comfort food and a hike up to the overlook.”

“Don’t you mean those things in the opposite order?”

“No, Keith, because if I’m going to hike, I’d better be puking by the end of it or I wasted my time.”

“You and Shiro are both weird as hell.”

“How do you think I got him to marry me? I can do this one thing with my-”

“Okay, no, thank you! I take it back! Let’s go puke on the mountain! Tons of fun!”

“See? I knew you’d come around.”

***

It’s all going well until Adam makes the turn into Sally’s Diner and Keith realizes he’s going to have to kill him.

“No, Adam. No. I - I can’t. Not yet.”

“Keith,” he sighs, “I know it’s hard. But just - hear me out, okay? Please?”

His eyes are wildly darting between the door and Adam, a soft sort of anxiety tearing through him at the thought. The last time he was here was -

“Okay. I’ll - listen.”

Never say that Adam and Shiro didn’t raise an impulsive man because that is _not_ what he wanted to come out of his mouth.

“Good. Because I’m going to tell you a story. When my dad died,” and here he sighs, the pain of an old wound like phantoms touching him again, “He and my mom had spent the whole morning together. They’d had breakfast at their favorite spot, run some errands - normal stuff, right? Well, he sent her into the outlet store so she could look for a new dress in peace, and he sat in the car to read some new home improvement magazine he’d picked up.”

He stops for a minute, just to remember. Keith is waiting for the other shoe to drop, but gives him his time. Grief is something they’ve all come to know very well, and Keith was so young when he first had to come to terms with it. He understands the wheel of fate a little more than most people his age. 

“Well,” Adam breathes. “While she was in there, his heart stopped. Just—he was gone, in an instant. Someone came and got her to check on him and - she had to find him like that.”

“Jesus, Adam.”

“I know. But that’s not even the point of this story.” He’s smiling now, some of the weight being lifted. “The point is, my mom went back to all of those places a week after the funeral. She said she had to, or she would’ve hated them for the rest of her life. And Keith—this was your favorite place, _your_ place with Lance. It’s okay to enjoy it, and remember him while you do.”

Keith is looking at him with wide eyes and a sort of panic at being caught is coursing through his veins. “Am I - Adam, I just - it’s like this hole, y’know? _God_ , this is stupid I’m sorry we can-”

“Nope. Uh uh. You’re allowed to be in pain, Keith. You loved him just as much as everyone else. Grief isn’t something you can measure in comparison to other people, and this isn’t like before. You have people to lean on, so let us help you. We don’t have to go in. But I think it would help if the last memories you had of this place weren’t from the day he died.”

Keith takes a breath, and the feelings threatening to swallow him whole recede enough for the tears to come in while he’s staring at the door. “Okay… just. If it’s too much, can we leave? I don’t - I don’t know if I can-”

“Hey. It’s still your decision, Keith. I won’t force you to do anything. And we’ll leave right now if it’s too much too soon.”

Keith grabs his hand and squeezes, Adam’s other one coming to rest on his shoulder. “I think… I think I’d like to try.”

Adam gives him a few minutes, just to silently sit in comfort and the rest that comes in sharing your pain with another. Easing the burden, just a bit, and for a short time.

“Then let’s go.”

***

Keith—somehow, miraculously—survives the day with Adam before they head back to the station. He has scrapes up one side of his arm and _at least_ three broken ribs, but he _made it_ and that’s what counts, right? 

“Keith!” Adam calls to him as he’s stepping out of the car, turning back in time to see the window roll down. “Don’t tell Takashi I fell down that hill. I know where you live!”

“I don’t think I’m gonna have to tell him anything, Adam. You have like, half a leg left after we cleaned out those cuts, but I won’t say anything to him!”

“Yeah, yeah. Both of you, two peas in a pod. Come by for dinner soon, okay?”

“Sure thing. And Adam?” He hesitates for a moment. “Thanks for today.”

“No problem, Keith. See you later!”

Keith waves as he walks backwards towards the station to pick up Kosmo, and Adam heads to find parking—probably dragging his workaholic husband out on time for once. 

***

Keith and Kosmo settle in for the ride home. A new, winding way that he’s never tried with a view of the hills and a lake that peeks out between the trees. The radio is low in the background, sunshine red through the low clouds with a warm breeze coming in through the windows while the husky contemplated sticking his head out. 

He’s enjoying it—until he comes up on a car with its hood propped open and his damn altruistic side gets the better of him. Keith sighs and pulls his car over into the gravel along the side of the road, patting Kosmo on the head before opening his door. “I’ll be back in a minute, boy. Hold down the fort.”

He slides out of the car and slowly makes his way forward, taking in the beat up, old Chevy. It’s definitely seen some better days, but it’s also old enough to not need a computer hookup to fix whatever’s wrong with it. He sidles up to the open drivers side window, getting a fast impression of the person inside who’s leaned over rifling quickly through papers in the passenger seat.

Tanned skin, and the color makes his heart squeeze in his chest, his hands burn, the nerves along his spine catch fire. An undercut, with the short hair on top in gentle waves that make him want to pull his fingers through just to feel the different textures. Keith almost turns around right then, almost walks away and never looks back because _this_? This isn’t something he needs right now. Attraction, no matter how strong, isn’t something he’s looking to expand or act on. It feels too soon and he’s just… not ready.

But Keith stopped to help, so he rallies himself and ignores the fire in his veins. “Um- excuse me,” he says as the man freezes, “I saw your hood open and, uh, I used to work at a repair shop if you want me to take a look—I’m a police officer now, just - sorry if this is weird, but...”

He drifts off as the stranger turns towards him and _oh_.

His eyes meet _blue_ , and it’s like he’s drowning all over again, so quickly he never even had a chance to draw breath. He’s sinking, sinking, _sinking_ , and his heart is in his throat and the world suddenly feels like it’s here in front of him.

Because there he is. That’s the love of his life.

_Alive_.

“Lance?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this chapter! I wanted to basically get some snapshots of what Keith’s life was like without Lance - a real, WHOLE thing that hurt but was worth living. I have a one shot I’m almost finished with and then I’ll be working on Chapter 3! Kudos and comments give me LIFE 💙♥️
> 
> Also, as ever, a huge thank you to Sara (@stormie2817) for being the best beta and friend I could ask for ♥️♥️♥️


	3. Watch as You Wake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith can’t take his eyes off of him. A terror like he’s never known grips his insides, afraid that if he looks away, Lance will disappear into the corners of his mind.

“Lance?”

Keith can’t take his eyes off of him. A terror like he’s never known grips his insides, afraid that if he looks away, Lance will disappear into the corners of his mind. Afraid that this is another dream, an apparition of his mind finally snapped, a fantasy taken too far, a-

“Keith \-  listen, Red, I can explain-”

He feels the breath leave his lungs in a crushing rush as the familiar nickname leaves Lance’s lips, a tsunami rolling over him and through him and leaving nothing but a waste of what he thought  _ was _ in its wake. Keith pitches forward until he’s crouching next to the door, one hand still gripping the windowsill — he can’t let go, he  _ can’t _ , even as his breaths come in small gasps. Lance (and god, how easily he slips into thinking of him again as  _ here _ and  _ present _ ) is sounding more panicked by the second, even as Keith inwardly revels at the sound of his voice again.

“Red? What’s- okay I know what’s wrong but- c’mere- you gotta get out of the road, babe, you’re gonna get hit by a freakin’ car.”

Keith has absolutely gone insane and this is all an apparition of his grief-riddled mind, it motherfucking  _ has _ to be, because here’s Lance, the word ‘babe’ falling from his lips exactly like he’d always dreamed it would. So Keith shoves air into his lungs through pure willpower alone, the gasping breaths coming deeper now that he’s sure: he’s broken, and he’s going to take what he can get. How far will this delusion allow him? Will he be able to touch it? Will his mind perfectly detail the lashes and warm skin and-

He’s standing, and in one smooth motion, Keith rips the car door open and unceremoniously shoves himself in, right onto Lance’s lap. Lance is sputtering, hands automatically wrapping around the waist in front of him, eyes wide and darting over Keith’s face.

“Keith, what the shit! You big oaf, there’s a whole quiznacking car wh-” he’s cut off by a drip of moisture on his skin, and then there’s a head making its home where his neck meets his shoulder.

Keith is — sobbing. Quiet, gasping sobs that feel like they’re being ripped straight from his soul, the kind that would overpower desperate screams for reality to never catch up with him. He’s breaking down, but,  _ god _ , Lance is so warm and alive and  _ here _ . So Keith pulls himself together bit by bit, and his right hand goes up to feel along the skin of the man he’s on, just to see. To test his luck, to test his reality, and he finds it. There, right where it’s always been: a small scar behind one ear that Lance has had since he was a teenager when he tried to ride a skateboard down the stairs.

Keith has moved on to messier crying, and he doesn’t even give a shit because Lance is  _ here _ , and he’s spent enough time without him. A little embarrassment is the least of his worries now, if ever.

Lance is sitting in shock, eyes wide as he takes in Keith, always a rock in the storm, breaking down. He closes his gaping mouth and quickly reaches out, somehow maneuvering and smashing them enough to get the car door closed while rolling up the manual window. Keith is just sitting on him, one hand rubbing circles through the buzzed ends of his hair in the back, reveling in the here and now.

And  _ god _ , he’s so in love with Lance. It never went away, it never slowed, it never faded, even if he’d convinced himself he was healing. Well — he had been, but there’s a difference between figuring out life after a death and seeing your person alive and healthy and whole. He’s drowning, just like he was before everything went wrong, before Lance died, before he had to pick up the pieces of his life without the love of it no longer there. He hasn’t stopped sobbing, and he’s pretty convinced his body is going to shrivel up and die before he stops, the feelings of everything pouring out through his eyes.

Lance puts a hand into the black ponytail, slowly stroking his hair and feeling the silky strands like water fall through his fingertips; while something brushes against Keith’s temple. “Hey, sweetheart, I’m right here. It’s gonna be okay… I’m here.”

Keith resolutely shoves ‘sweetheart’ to drown in later, focusing on the warm man under him, feeling his way down Lance’s neck and finally resting a hand on his chest. His heart beats there,  _ buh bump, buh bump _ , and Keith is starting to question his sanity less. Because he couldn’t imagine this. He wouldn’t  _ feel _ the breath on his face, or the way blood rushes to his cheeks, or the hands on him.

“I- Lance-” there are too many words trying to spill out of him, too many feelings to comprehend at once. His soul is on fire, and he can feel the burn of it in his fingertips; curling harder into the warm body under to him, breathing in Lance and the closeness of his heat.

“Keith, Red, baby, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. Do you have Kosmo with you?”

Keith nods without moving from his spot, and fucking  _ Christ _ , he’s so in love, it will kill him. He’s going to die on the spot, and all that will be left is his burning heart.

“Okay I’m- shit, Red. Just give me a minute, okay? I’m gonna go get Kosmo and then-”

“Lance,” Keith says, and finally looks at him. His eyes are aching and red, but a fire is there, turning them to liquid violet. “I thought you- I thought you were dead. You- I don’t know how you’re here so I need you- I need you to tell me that this is real.  _ Please _ .”

Lance looks stricken. Like he didn’t know this was coming, like no one would be this broken over seeing him again. He leans forward to gently cup Keith’s face, his hands calloused but soft. He tips their foreheads together until he feels them touch, blue eyes swirling like an ocean storm.

“This is real. I’m- I’m here, Keith. I’m alive.”

Keith’s breath  _ whooshes _ out of him as he sits up a little straighter, finally gaining control over his rebelling body and wiping the leftover tears from his face. “Okay… well. Is- do you need a ride? I’m- I have a lot of shit I need to sort out but this isn’t- do you have somewhere you’re staying?”

Lance is still taking him in — the haphazard ponytail, the dark circles, the exhaustion… but he’s put together. He’s not wasting away, he’s not falling apart (much), he’s still  _ living _ . “Yeah… if that’s okay. I boosted this junker from the pier and it quiznacking gave out on me before I even hit 60! Can you believe it? What a hunk of-! Shit, Keith. I’m- I’m s-”

“No,” Keith says, and  _ oh _ , he’s smacking himself for interrupting, but they have more pressing issues. “Stop. I don’t want any explanations until we get where we need to be.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he says, and he doesn’t even hesitate. Not for a second, not for a thought.

Lance gives him a long look before patting the thigh closest to him. “Alright. Hop up, Red, we gotta get a move on.”

Keith absorbs this moment, filing it away for later. He doesn’t want to analyze things or freak out any more than he already has. So he tucks these feelings away, and in one swift movement he’s clicked the door open and slid out to stand tall against the rise of the lake.

He turns back to see Lance swallow thickly, his eyes slightly glazed over. “Blue? You okay?”

Lance starts, a light flush coming to his face. “Yeah! Just — peachy. Super cool! Great, even. Um let’s- uh, get this thing wiped down and then we can hit the road.”

Keith stares at him for a few more seconds, his brain running a million miles an hour trying to figure out what the hell is going on, until he has to shake it off as just — Lance. He helps him wipe prints out of the car, methodically going over the seats to make sure no stray hairs or other messes have made it into the creases, and flips the mats outside to clear them out.

“You good to go?” Keith asks as Lance grabs the last of his things from the top of the car, careful to keep his fingers from touching.

“Yeah, man, I’m good to go. Let’s blow this popsicle stand!”

Everything is fine until he makes his way over to the driver’s side of Keith’s car and opens the door, only to be tackled to the ground by a blur of black and white fur. “Kosmo!” He laughs as his papers hit the ground and scatter, arms coming around the giant dog to hug him tightly. “I’ve missed you, buddy.”

Keith watches on, and he feels… full. The ruptures in his heart are sore, and sure to scar, but the image of Lance and Kosmo there, on the ground, makes him want to lay in this moment. So he pulls himself together and whistles, his dog bounding towards him and the passenger side door he has opened. “C’mon, boy. I know you’re happy to see him, but we gotta go. Up!”

Lance stares at them for a moment, and then sighs as Keith clambers into the car, picking up the things he dropped to catch Kosmo. They slip so easily into these roles: Keith, going over the things Lance hands him while he’s busy driving, trying to put the pieces together before Lance explains it to him. It’s a game he wins a lot.

But this time… this time, he glances through what he’s been handed, looks at it and then the man starting the car, and makes his decision. He tosses the papers into the backseat without a backward glance, and keeps his eyes on Lance. Because there’s still a part of him that’s scared but so  _ tired _ of being without him, so tired of being sad, so tired of walking around with that blanket of grief. He doesn’t look away again.

Lance takes his eyes off the road for a second, glancing over to see Keith slightly smiling with a winded look on his face. “Why you staring so much, Samurai? Enjoying the view?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, laughing quietly to himself.

“Yeah. Best one in the city, actually.”

The effect is immediate. Lance starts choking on air, his cheeks turning a light red as Keith’s words sink in. And his filter is really gone right now, huh? Because he didn’t want to  _ flirt back _ , what the  _ fuck _ , that’s — well, what’s done is done, he guesses. So Keith does what he does best — owns it.

He slouches down into his seat while lowering his lids a bit, a smirk playing on his lips. “What’s wrong, Blue? Cat got your tongue?”

Lance’s face flames brighter as shocked wheezing scrapes past his teeth. “Wh- Keith, what the- um, I, uh-”

Keith laughs, a bright and full sound that squeezes his chest (god, how long had it been since he’d felt so light?), and leans forward a bit to get in Lance’s space. “So when are you going to tie your shoes?”

Lance goes from flushed to absolutely flabbergasted, his mouth moving but no sound emerging, the crease between his brows deepening. “Uhhh, well, I can tie them right now, I guess? I didn’t even-”

“Because I don’t want you falling for anyone else.” Keith adds a wink onto the end of his statement, because fuck it, that’s why. If he’s gonna do this, he’s going to go all in or die trying.

Lance pulls into a parking spot behind a small warehouse, one of those nice ones they keep towards the pier, where the organic companies make their stuff in house. He’s burning to the tips of his ears, eyes wide and staring blankly forward as his brain tries to compute  _ Keith _ using a pick up line on  _ him _ .

“Don’t strain yourself too hard, Sharpshooter, looks like we’re here. Lead the way.” Keith hops out of the car without looking back, satisfied grin firmly in place. If he gets Lance back — if this is really happening — he’s not letting this chance slip by. He’s going to woo the  _ shit _ out of him, do all the things he swore he’d do, finally tease him the way he’s always wanted. Because nothing could hurt as much as the death he thought he’d been through. And rejection?

He’d take that in spades if he had to.

So Keith heads towards the door with Kosmo on his heels, dancing around him to the edge of the building. Lance seems to have gathered himself, a slight blush still tinging his cheeks before he jingles the keys in his hands and smiles at Keith, opening the door with a flourish.

“Aaaaaand, welcome to my humble abode,” he says as he bows forward mockingly.

Keith gives him an unimpressed look, glancing into the darkness. “Lance… there’s nothing here but fabric and mannequins.”

“Ah, yeah. My uh, place is upstairs actually. Just- get a move on, Mullet!”

Keith laughs as he walks in, ponytail swinging forcefully behind him. “Not a mullet anymore, remember?”

“Yeah, it’s just your personality at this point.”

Keith turns as he walks, sticking his tongue out at the man behind him. He doesn’t miss the way Lance’s eyes widen, his steps slightly stuttering at this lighthearted Keith in from of him, so different from the one in his lap not an hour ago.

“What the fuck”, he whispers, speeding up to pass Keith on his way up the stairs. He opens the door and steps inside, tossing his papers and journal onto the kitchen counter for later, and spreads his arms wide. “And here we are! Are you happy now, Samurai? I’ve been slumming it here in the afterlife, so please don’t judge me too much.”

Keith feels his words hit him like a blow, sucking the air out of his lungs for what seems like the millionth time today. He just- is it a  _ game _ to him, that everyone thought he was dead? Keith shakes the thought because this is  _ Lance _ , but  _ shit _ , that hurt. Enough to pull the rug out from under his feet, enough to flutter the wound in his chest, enough to take his joy and relief and turn it into hot, burning anger.

“Pidge said it was clear from prying eyes and there weren’t any bugs around, so I fixed it up a bit. It’s actually Allura’s- which, okay, you don’t know her yet but-”

And you know, even if he  _ is _ the love of Keith’s life, he’s still allowed to be  _ pissed _ . He spent five months thinking he was dead. And all the shit that comes with losing someone that feels like coming home, all the shit that comes with packing up boxes of things, of comforting friends, of running routines from  _ before _ . Because this is  _ Lance _ , and there will never be someone Keith falls this deeply into, no one whose whole being feels like the light of a supernova under his skin. He would forgive him for burning a galaxy to ash if he asked, but for now — _ now _ , he’s sinking into the anger, the pain, the hurt, the devastation.

And even if he doesn’t return his feelings, even if Keith is alone with his heart and his love, he still  _ cares _ . And Lance… didn’t trust him enough to tell him he was alive.

And somehow that’s  _ worse _ .

Lance is moving forward from the living room, realizing Keith stopped near the entrance, realizing that he didn’t follow him more than ten feet past the front door. “Hey, Red? You okay over here?”

He brings his fingers in to touch Keith’s, and that’s what bursts the dam he’s built around his feelings.

“Don’t- don’t fucking call me ‘Red’ right now, Lance. Do you even know what you put me through? And now you’re- what, making  _ jokes _ about being dead? Wh-”

“Re- Keith. I swear, I had my reasons. I didn’t want to- to hurt you or put you in dan-” he’s panicking, and Keith can see it, but right now… he can’t do it. He can’t hold it in.

“You didn’t want to ‘ _ hurt me _ ’? Are you serious?! You have  _ no fucking idea _ what I’ve gone through!” He turns away, anger and pain pushing him further into the abyss. “Do you even know what these last five months have been like, Lance? Did you have to hold your mother while she screamed over a dusty corpse? Did you have to tell Hunk that his best friend was dead? Did you have to- to fucking wake up every morning and think that- that the person you-”

Keith rubs his mouth with one hand, the vivid pain in his chest pulled tight, crushing him and sending his anger scattering to the wind. The confession is begging to be let out, rattling the cages of his mind and repeating in his mind like a man possessed — but now isn’t the time.

“I’m sorry,” Keith says. “I’m glad you’re alive. I guess I’m just angry with you, too.”

There’s only silence behind him, and he’s not sure if Lance is weighing his words or gearing up to throw him out, until long tan arms wrap around his middle.

“I’m sorry, too, Keith. You have a huge reason to be mad at me, and I get it, so you don’t actually have to apologize I just- I guess I convinced myself it was okay, y’know? I knew I was coming back eventually, so it didn’t seem like such a big deal, and I’ve kind of gotten used to joking about it. Pidge said everyone was doing fine, so I didn’t-” Lance stops talking, his words shaking with some emotion Keith can’t name.

“Did my mom- was it really that bad? Keith, I didn’t know it was going to be so hard, and I’m trying to do this by myself, which  _ isn't _ an excuse I just-”

Keith turns around in his arms, and yeah, he’s still upset. Hurting and tender around the edges, fragile in ways he swore he never would be. But he’s also so so  _ so _ relieved, engulfed in flames of happiness that twist into his core. So he raises his hands and tugs Lance into his shoulder, gently nuzzling the hair there while running smooth hands around his neck.

“Hey… it’s okay, Blue. I’m just- I’m still mad, okay? We all had a rough time and I can’t  _ believe _ Pidge- it doesn’t even matter. We can talk about it later. Just… lay off the death jokes, okay?”

Lance sinks into him, just a bit, his arms tightening around Keith and sending his heart into overdrive. “No problem,  _ querido _ . Do you uh, wanna sit down?”

“In a minute,” Keith says into his hair. “Just… give me a minute.”

***

They eventually make it over to the couch, eyes red and emotions still raw, not really letting go of one another. Keith takes thirty seconds to scan the room: open living room and kitchen with brick walls, and large, frosted windows lining the back. To the left and right, there’s one door each, presumably a bedroom and bathroom. Lance has one corner strung with boards and pins and notes, all detailing his case and information.

Lance leans back against the armrest, legs slung over Keith’s lap with Kosmo’s head resting on his stomach. He gently strokes the black and white fur there, nimble hands deftly digging into all the right places.

“So,” Keith starts, “you have to know I’m gonna ask why you faked your death. I mean- that’s crazy, even for you.”

Lance sighs, but smiles at him before one of his hands come up to tangle with Keith’s. “Yeah, I mean, it seemed weird when I first thought about it but — Keith, I figured out why those people were dying! It was a quiznacking weird situation, and I didn’t have much to tie them together, but — well, you mentioned going for a ride and getting fresh air, and it hit me that they were all just living their lives, right? Not many of them with a criminal history, ties to white collar organizations, all that jazz.”

“So, they were really just random?” Keith asks.

“Nah, dude. I went digging and they all had ties to this one company, Altea Technology. Well, not  _ really _ , it was more like friends of friends worked there. But — _ but _ ,  they all knew someone that worked there!” Lance has his hands in front of him now, wildling moving with his words.

“Okay, I believe you!” Keith laughs. “So, why were they killed? Were there some super secret experiments going on or something?”

“No, actually! No secrets, it’s all like right on their website, out there in the open for people to see. They’re working on these medical pods for faster, more extensive healing, right? Well, there are subsets within their company involved in the process, and I traced an anomaly in the lab work back to fluid originally used to power them. They use a totally new compound now, but when it first started up — well, they found some nasty side effects.” His brows crease with a small frown, eyes darkened in an emotion Keith can’t name.

“So, where do you want to go from here? We’ll have to talk to someone at Altea Tech and see-”

“Already way ahead of you, Red. That’s why- I mean, all these people showed up dead, right? I thought maybe they just had too much information or something but it’s- it’s worse than that. Someone there figured out how to use it as, like, a freaky mind control thing and I'm not going to lie to you. I think I’m in over my head.”

Keith rubs one of the knees in his lap, small, smooth circles to soothe the anxiety he can feel building up in the man next to him. “Hey, hey,  _ hey _ . It’s okay. We’re gonna figure this out. You’re the best detective I know, and if you already have a contact, we’re on our way.”

Lance smiles thankfully, although the crease between his brows doesn’t quite go away. “Thanks, man. So yeah, I may have uhhhhh,” he scratches the side of his face, “contacted the owner and CEO myself.”

“You,  _ wh _ -”

“Let me explain! Okay, so I thought maybe they were doing it on purpose and using the pods as a cover, y’know? Who wouldn’t find  _ mind control _ more profitable than  _ medical pods _ . So I confronted her — Allura — with all of my information-”

“Wait, wait, wait! You faked your death because you thought they might kill you, and then  _ walked into the CEO’s office to hand them your information _ ?!”

Lance has the decency to look slightly abashed, his cheeks tinged red as he smiles wryly at Keith. “Yeah, that’s actually almost word for word what she said, too. Turns out, Allura’s super cool. She didn’t know anything bad was going on, let alone that someone was mind-control-murdering people with her tech. She’s, ah, helping me search for whoever’s responsible — kind of amazing, actually. She’s probably as smart as Pidge and could, like, bench press Shiro, no problem.”

Lance has one hand behind his head now, scratching his hair as he looks away from Keith, refusing to meet his eyes. And — _ shit _ . He was okay with rejection until it was staring him in the face. Because he knows that look, knows what comes next, knows the way he’ll bashfully bring someone up in conversations. And he lets the pain flow, just for a minute, rolls it around, tastes it. And then he lets it go, because as much as it hurts… Lance is alive to  _ have _ those feelings for someone, even if it’s not him.

“Well… that’s good,” he says, jarring Lance out of whatever he was thinking about. “I mean, you’ve got the head going after one of it’s tails that happens to be killing people.”

“Ugh, why’d you have to describe it like that.”

“I have a reputation to uphold, you know.”

“Whatever you say, Mullet. She’s been pulling some files and we’re looking at a few people in one of the testing labs, along with a couple of board members. We might have a lead on a street runner, but I don’t want to put all my eggs in one basket.” He starts fiddling with Kosmo again, like he has to keep moving, keep his hands busy before rest overtakes him in any form.

“Hey,” Keith says, “it’s getting late. Why don’t we get some rest and just start in the morning? I’ll go over your paperwork and suspects after we have coffee and no less than six hours of sleep.”

Lance laughs, a small thing, and not nearly what Keith is used to. “All right, Red. You’ve got a deal. There’s only one bed, though, so I hope you’re okay with sharing. I’m a cuddler.”

Keith has about three seconds to contemplate exactly how he got here and the death that awaits him before his mouth starts moving. “Oh, yeah ,that’s fine. I’ve slept in worse places, that’s for sure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“I mean, you saw Rolo’s apartment. Nice guy,  _ way _ too into building that hovercraft.”

“Wait, you  _ slept _ there?” And there’s something under Lance’s words, something he can’t place, something that makes him wonder. “Are you guys like — _ dating _ ?! Is that a thing that happened while I’ve been gone?!”

He’s sitting straight up, eyes wider than Keith has ever seen, hands clutching the couch on either side of him. He’s — actually shocked, that Keith at some point had spent the night with someone, that he’d  _ dated _ . “Uhhh, no? We had that one date back before you died and then we hung out a couple times since but it never… it never went anywhere? We were both only halfway interested, honestly. He’s been seeing Nyma for a couple months now.”

“Oh. Well. Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool. I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” he says, and it’s the strangest thing.

He doesn’t sound sorry at all.

***

“Aaaaaand, here’s that extra toothbrush I was promising you,” Lance says as he hands a package to Keith, who’s standing in the bathroom only partly clothed.

“Oh, thanks. I’ll be done in a minute.”

“No prob, Bob, I’ll be in my room!” He tosses it over his shoulder as he quickly makes his way across the living room, the door already open and warm light spilling onto his lithe form.

Keith finishes changing, the shirt Lance let him borrow only slightly uncomfortable on his arms and chest. “He won’t be happy when he gets  _ this _ back… here’s to hoping it was an extra.”

He doesn’t spend a few minutes just enjoying wearing Lance’s clothes, the smell and the feel of them. He absolutely does not.

When he eventually stumbles through the darkness to the bedroom, he’s expecting Lance to already be in bed, maybe even feigning sleep. He’s  _ not _ expecting to walk through the door and come face-to-face with him half naked — and a scar that would tear into anyone’s nightmares.

For the second time that day, grief and terror pull at Keith’s seams, horror unimaginable, fear clawing through his chest and through his eyes. It’s ragged around the edges, slightly raised and uneven all over, the darkness of his skin only serving to outline the lighter color of the starburst emblazoned on his back. He’s reaching for it before he even has time to think, the burning in him turning his reason to ash, the need to feel him and know he’s alive filling every atom of his being. Because no one should be able to survive something like this. And he didn’t have it five months ago.

“Lance?” Keith asks, small and hoarse, his fingers finally finding skin.

He jumps, his face pallid and panicked. “Keith! Sorry, I didn’t hear you-”

“Lance, what is that?” And his voice isn’t shaking. It’s  _ not _ .

“So, uh, funny story, actually! Someone… mayhavetriedtoblowuponeofthelabswithmeinit.” Lance rushes through it, like he’s begging Keith to let him off the hook, like a simple explanation can will it away.

“Lance, what? It’s- it’s  _ huge _ . If you were caught in an explosion-”

“Yeah, um, luckily for me, Allura had some pods nearby. And they leave scars! But it didn’t… hurt that long...” Lance trails off, probably realizing a little too late that that doesn’t really sound any better.

“Turn around, Blue. Let me just — can I have a look?” Keith is still dazed, trying to wrap his mind around an injury severe enough to leave scars like  _ that _ on him.

Lance turns, and Keith’s eyes are burning all over again, the raised edges somehow soft against his fingers as he tentatively reaches out. The scar bursts from his shoulder blades outward, skimming shoulders and waist, tearing against the gentle expanse of his back. It has layers and textures, like fire had carved out a piece of him, molded his skin into an instrument of its will, and suddenly, Keith isn’t gently touching him. He’s wrapping arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to the ragged expanse in front of him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Lance. I can’t imagine- I don’t want anything to happen to you. Next time you throw yourself into something just- just don’t do it alone, okay?”

Lance is frozen in his arms, limbs locked in place as Keith brings himself in close, gently holding him until he’s ready to relax. “Yeah, Red,” he says as he pats the arms around his middle, “Never again. I mean, you found me anyway, right? Just can’t seem to shake you.”

Keith laughs lightly, shaking the last bit of moisture from his eyes. “Keep that in mind next time you want to run head first into danger. C’mon,” he loosens his arms and heads towards the large bed in the middle of the room, pulling down cool blankets and sheets to make himself comfortable, “we’ve got enough to do tomorrow. Let’s get some rest.”

Lance is just standing in the middle of the room, shorts high on his legs and shirt dangling from loose fingertips, staring at Keith. His eyes are liquid, an ocean in their swirling depths. He shakes his head like he’s clearing a thought, and pulls on the rest of his clothes before climbing into the bed with Keith, sliding in until he’s directly in the middle.

“Told you. I’m a cuddler.”

Keith smiles and welcomes death to take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW this chapter is over 5k and it’s been an absolute labor of love. I’m super excited for chapter 4 so fingers crossed I can knock it out! HUGE shoutout to everyone in the Klance Writer’s Support chat for being the biggest fountain of inspiration and motivation. You’re all the kindest, most hardworking people I’ve ever met <3


	4. Wave After Wave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A club, a car, and a visit to Allura. Information is had, revelations are made, and Keith and Lance will never be the same. 
> 
> But sometimes that’s the point.

It’s been six weeks and Keith is seriously contemplating throwing himself out a window. There’s a decent-sized one in this bathroom and it opens, so he could do it. He could feasibly just launch himself out. Six weeks of going to bed and waking up with one Lance McClain has taken its toll, and he’s  _ tired _ of jerking it in the shower like some teenager with an overactive libido.

Truthfully, he’s stalling tonight, staring at his reflection in the mirror, and questioning all of the choices in life that led him here. He sighs and brushes his hair, tossing his dirty clothes into the hamper on the way to their bedroom, bare feet quiet against the wood. Lance is already in bed, his face lit up by the phone in his hand and highlighting the soft tilt of his eyes.

“You know you can’t be on Tinder, you’re supposed to be dead,” Keith says, and watches him freeze in the seconds before his phone comes cracking down onto his nose.

“ _ Quiznack _ ! Why are you so sneaky?! You’re like some sort of quiet, hair brushing ninja!” He’s sitting up now, rubbing his face with eyes narrowed to slits.

“Hair brushing ninja, huh? That’s a new one.”

“Shut it, Samurai. You carry around swords for a living, I don’t want to hear it.” His eyes finally start roaming and,  _ Christ _ , can Keith catch a break? Can he just — stop for one second? Because he feels the interest sparking, can feel the heat in his gut pooling at the dark look in Lance’s eyes, feels this thing in the air between them thicken. He’s biding his time — he can’t just confess in the middle of all this, with having to live here and work on getting this shit solved so Lance can come back.

Lance shakes his head as if clearing it, and suddenly he’s making grabby hands at Keith while he scooches to the middle of the bed. “C’mon, I need my cuddle buddy!”

Keith rolls his eyes but sets down the brush and flips the light off, climbing into the cage of Lance’s arms. It’s warm and safe there, and even if it’s just a hint of what he wants, of what he feels in his soul — well, he’ll take it. “Do you think we’ll find something soon?” Keith asks into the darkness of the room, Lance’s breaths gently moving his chest.

“Yeah. I mean, I hope we do, because I’m...” he rubs Keith’s hair, calloused fingers deftly pulling through the long locks.

“You’re what?” Keith asks.

“Eh, nothing. I’m just ready to go back to living, y’know? Like, I have tons of plans that got put on hold for this so — it sucks man. I’m ready to see my Mama again.”

“Yeah,” Keith says, and he’s drifting into the comfort of soft breaths and quiet voices, “she’s been… missing you...”

“Keith, baby, you falling asleep on me?” Lance asks, but he’s not awake to hear him.

He’s not awake for the lips against his cheek either.

***

Keith awakes in the morning to his body halfway under Lance’s, a comfortable, if hot, weight. It doesn’t matter that they’ve done this countless times now, his heart still starts racing and he can feel his limbs seize up, everything too overwhelming for the light sunrise peeking in at them. He slowly comes down from the panic, longing easily overtaking his mind.

So — for once, Keith indulges.

He runs a hand up the toned arm slung over his stomach, his other finding the hip it’s pinned under and giving a gentle squeeze. Lance leans into his touches, and he holds onto the feeling of the man he loves soaking up his affection. His face is right next to Keith’s, sharing a pillow with gentle snores between them. Keith leans forward and brushes his lips across the forehead in front of him, and pulls Lance just a little bit closer, holds him a little bit tighter, before he even thinks about waking him up.

It’s almost twenty minutes later when Lance starts stirring, and when he does, his mouth finds Keith’s neck as he nuzzles ever closer.  _ Like a damn octopus _ , Keith thinks. He leans into it, enjoying sleepy, comfortable morning Lance more and more with each passing day — which is extremely dangerous for his heart.

What he wouldn’t give for this to be his life.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” Keith murmurs, his words deeper with a distinct southern edge to them.

“Mmmmmmmm, not yet. ’m not ready. Too comfy.” Lance can’t quite make complete sentences yet, but the grind of his voice is going straight through Keith and he needs to get up and find a distraction  _ pronto _ .

“Want me to make some coffee?”

“Hmm. Want you to stay in bed. But that sounds yummy. Both. Can you do both?” This is it. Keith is actually going to combust from being overwhelmed from how fucking cute Lance is in the mornings, but also by how much he wants to pound him into the mattress.

Seeing as how his face is currently becoming one with a tomato, Keith decides coffee and breakfast it is, because he’s not going to go down like this. “Come to the kitchen when you’re awake.”

Keith indulges one last time and presses his lips to Lance’s hair, then carefully extricates himself from long legs still trying to wrap themselves around him, stopping to grab the first sweater he touches from the closet. It’s one of Lance’s favorites for fall: oversized and chunky, the knit a warm and comforting heat on his shoulders.

Keith pads into the kitchen, toes barely making a sound as he moves on autopilot to fill the coffeemaker. His mind is full of flashes of domestic scenarios, each simultaneously softer and hotter than the one before. He shakes his head as the machine beeps at him, taking two cups and filling one with creamer and sugar, the other black and straight from the pot.

He turns around and there’s Lance, standing at the counter watching him move with a soft look in his eyes. “Morning, Red. That’s my shirt, y’know.”

“And this is my favorite creamer. It’s too early, don’t start with me.” Keith says as he pushes one of the cups towards him.

Lance’s eyes darken as he leans closer, fingers grazing Keith’s as he takes his coffee, “You know I don’t start something I can’t finish.” And  _ Christ _ , is he purring?

Keith smirks at him with all the indifference he absolutely doesn’t feel, “Uh huh. Drink up, Sharpshooter, we’ve got a long day of investigation ahead of us.”

“Oh! About that,” he says as he waves his phone around, “Allura texted me.”

“And?” Keith prompts.

“ _ And _ you’d better put on your dancing shoes, Samurai. She’s got a lead.”

“A lead? Lemme see,” he says as he tries to snatch the phone from Lance’s hand. “And why the hell do I need dancing shoes?”

He pulls his phone back, quick as lightning. “Nuh uh, it would ruin the surprise. Anyway, you know how we did some digging and found the name of the runner? Macidus? Well,” and he’s arching an eyebrow at Keith, “turns out he does a lot of business through Club Andromeda.”

“Oh,” Keith says, “the space place?”

“Yeah. Wait — how do you know that?”

Keith quirks an eyebrow up at him before he answers. “Lance, I don’t live under a rock. I’ve been a couple times, it has easy exits and strong drinks. Trust me, you  _ do not _ want to order the Palaven unless you have forty eight hours to recover.”

“You- I mean I thought  _ I _ was- who did you-?” Lance sputters, his eyes wide and taken aback.

“Oh! Uh, it was just the once, actually. When Hunk and Pidge were on their ‘Operation Cheer Up’ kick, but we really just went and got shitfaced and then cried into some ice cream. Wouldn’t recommend it, really.”

“Huh,” Lance says, and he’s got a half smile on his face, “I thought you’d have gone with Rolo or someone.”

Keith feels his face contort in confusion, not seeing where this is coming from at all. “What? I mean we only hung out a few times and we didn’t go anywhere near Andromeda?”

“Yeah,” Lance sighs, “I remember. Anyway! Turns out Maci boy comes out and gets into a different car every night.  _ Nice _ cars — I’m talking Bugatti and Ferrari level.”

“Taking care of the help, huh? Even if they’re rentals, that’s a lot of money to throw around for a simple street runner.”

Lance nods, “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. I  _ also _ have a sneaking suspicion that these people don’t care, so that’s raising another question.”

“Who’s bankrolling their little party?” Keith asks, and while he has a few theories of his own, he really just likes to listen to Lance talk. A nice, soothing sound that matches the coffee on his tongue and the sweater on his shoulder, a comforting weight to fall into.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that actually. Altea Tech obviously has some friends in high places, so it’s not totally out of the realm of possibility that they’re using those drugs to cover up more than a few murders.” He takes a sip of his coffee, and Keith knows for a  _ fact _ he’s no heterosexual just from the way he’s mesmerized by Lance’s throat, the way his Adam’s apple moves when he swallows.

“Well, one thing at a time, I guess!” Lance lets out a big breath as he sits his mug down, looking at Keith through his lashes. “So, Allura has a private way in and she’s reserved part of the VIP section for us — discreetly. I’m gonna go in that way, schmooze some of the rich assholes to see if they know anything. A lone, big spender? Now t _ hat _ draws attention.”

“Let me guess,” Keith says, “I’ll be slumming it with the people that have the pleasure of fighting through the front door.”

Lance just grins at him, taking a sip of his coffee. “Sorry, Red. I’ll meet up with you after we’re in, but I don’t want us to be seen together beforehand.”

“Embarrassed of me already?”

“Never.” And there’s a twinkle in his eye as he leans forward, a promise of hot tongues and bunched sheets and-

Keith smirks and turns away, hiding his rising flush and the way his heart thunders in his chest. He rinses out his cup and makes his way across the room to where his phone is plugged in, the screen lighting up with a plethora of new notifications.

He shoots off a quick, non-committal text to Shiro about when he’s coming back to work from “vacation” and sees a new one pop up, this time from someone he’s not expecting.

**Allura** : Hello Keith! I already texted Lance so he’ll fill you in on the details, but we have a lead! Come by my place later, darling. I have the perfect outfit ;)

“You know,” he says to the room at large, “Allura terrifies me.”

Lance spins around, still nursing the cup of sugar in his hand. “You’re preaching to the choir, my dude.”

***

By the time Keith makes it to Allura’s, he only has a few hours until he’s supposed to meet Lance, and he won’t deny that he’s been stalling. He was able to sneak a peek at the outfit Lance had planned for the night before he was unceremoniously shoved out the door, and  _ shit _ was he already sweating. He shakes his head and jingles the key in the lock, nearly silent in his entry.

“‘Llura? You in here?” Keith calls — because the one time he’d come in unannounced, she’d nearly skewered him with the sharp replica sword above her fireplace.

“In here, Keith! Don’t mind the mess, darling, just come right through!” And he’s wondering what the hell she’s talking about until he reaches the kitchen, spatters of creamy goop dripping from the ceiling, while a charred skillet sits steaming in the sink.

He makes his way down the hallway into her beautifully large bedroom, the clean lines softened by hints of pink and blue. It’s all in perfect harmony (except for the kitchen explosion) with the staggeringly beautiful woman in front of him, clad in a soft t-shirt dress and knee high socks. Keith jerks a thumb back over his shoulder. “What the hell happened out there?”

“Romelle came over to cook and-”

“Doesn’t look like you got much cooking done,” Keith remarks, his eyebrow raised in her direction, and  _ oh god that sounded like Lance, why did I say that _ ?! Allura gives a startled laugh, tucking her book away between the couch cushions and rising easily.

“Well. I suppose you’re not entirely wrong,” she says as she goes to the door opposite them, pulling it open with a flourish. “We’ve been a tad more…  _ distracted _ , as of late.”

“So you finally made a move, huh?” Keith asks, wry smile pulling at his lips.

“Actually,” Allura calls from inside her closet, “Romelle did. Said she got tired of me messing about.”

“You’ve been dancing around each other for what? Three years? It’s about time. Can’t believe you didn’t combust months ago.”

“As if you’re one to talk,” she says as she walks back into the room with a bundle of black in her arms, boots dangling from long fingers. “I know for a fact you and Lance have known each other since the academy. Could cut the sexual tension with a spoon if you wanted to, darling.”

Keith groans and flops back onto the bed, mentally fighting himself for how obvious he’s been. “You don’t have to remind me, ‘Llura. It’s been  _ torture _ . But — are you happy? Like, is it everything you thought it would be?”

“Yes, and more, honestly. She’s been truly amazing, even if things haven’t changed all that much — we just kiss now. You have all my sympathies, Keith. Now,” she says as she claps her hands together, “let’s get you ready to go charm a man!”

“‘Charm’ really? Because — oh.”

Keith’s eyes land on mesh fabric as he sits up, slick sleeves and shredded jeans, all the color of night. And Allura, looking at him with a gentle smile that promises the world and chills him to the bone. He slowly lifts his eyes to hers, and has to stop himself from scooting backwards.

“Get dressed, darling. We don’t have much time, and there’s still your hair and makeup to do!” Her jovial voice doesn’t trick him for a  _ second _ . She’s plotting, and he’s just a bug caught in one of the threads she’s meticulously placed in her web.

Keith sighs and stands up, sealing his fate.

“As you wish, Princess.”

“ _ Keith _ .”

***

Lance adjusts the sleeve of his fitted gray suit as he makes his way through the thick crowd to his reserved section, putting on an air of confidence and swagger. White shirt, crisp and unbuttoned down his chest, solid white tennis shoes fresh from the box, and a watch he doesn't want to even  _ imagine _ the cost of around his wrist, and yeah, he’ll admit it: he looks good as hell.

Allura really pulled through with this get up, but  _ shit _ he’s looking forward to seeing what she put together for Keith. And that shoves his mind squarely in the direction of that whole mess instead of what he’s here to do because — okay, listen, he knows how loud Keith is on his own. Pun not intended here, because  _ damn _ if he doesn’t realize Lance can hear his moans from across the apartment every morning during his shower. But back to his point: Keith is a loud person, even when he’s not jerking off. He takes up space and doesn’t apologize for it, not to anyone.

Probably how he ended up setting up camp squarely in Lance’s chest, but y’know. Shit happens. People fall for their rival and partner all the time, it’s totally normal to fake your death and live with said partner to solve the case, and absolutely cool to then overhear them beating off every day for the past month since they’re so damn loud about it.

Everything is fine.

Lance finally makes it to his corner and slides onto the couch, easily waving down one of the waiters that have their eyes trained on him. He places his order and lets his eyes wander, as if bored. He’s cataloging everyone he can see, searching for leads or people that look like they belong just a little too well, trying desperately to blend in to not attract attention. Lance has done his job well enough that he just looks like some rich dude taking up a whole couch by himself.

He sees a woman at the bar, a little too business casual and scared to be there for sex or a fun time, so he snags his drink off the tray headed his way and dives back into the crowd. Lance glances through the crush of people to get his bearings, taking a deep drink — and that’s when he sees him.

Keith.

He has to do a double take because holy  _ shit _ , his mind is trying to force images together and suddenly the room is spinning as he takes him in: black half-sleeved crop top with a mesh overlay hitting right above his belly button, (is that a  _ piercing _ ?), black ripped jeans so tight they look painted on, and hair in an elaborate braid down to his waist.

And at this point, alcohol is burning his windpipe and he’s coughing, trying to shove the thoughts from his head — because there they are, right there. The Gloves. Lance had though maybe Keith stopped wearing them, stopped tormenting him — but apparently not, seeing as how he’s imagining all the ways he wants to choke on them or feel them on his skin, his hair, his ass.  _ He’s successfully pavloved my ass into finding those things attractive _ , Lance thinks.  _ What the cheese, man _ .

Lance thought he was prepared — thought he’d seen everything there was to see at the club scene and on stakeouts. He was wrong. Because  _ nothing _ could prepare him for watching Keith grind down on some man’s chest and being hit in the face with all his feelings and the absolutely unnecessary thought of  _ Christ, I wish that was me _ . He watches in complete awe as Keith moves his pelvis in ways he’s never seen, never dreamed he was capable of.

He takes it in, files it away for later, and downs the rest of his drink.

He’s going to need it.

***

“Did you know I’m a thief?” Lance says as he slots himself against the bar, the woman he spotted earlier looking up in surprise and interest. Bingo.

“Um, no, I didn’t,” the woman smiles shyly, tucking a strand of red hair behind one ear. “But I’d love to hear more about it.”

“Good, because I’m here to steal something.”

“What-”

“Your heart.” Lance winks and waves for the bartender, watching the flush slowly creep up her pale skin. “You drinking alone… seemed like a real waste. The name’s Marco, can I buy you a drink?”

“S- sure! I’m Luka. What uh, what brings you here?”

“Well,” and here Lance evaluates his chances, skims the air between them, and decides to go all in. She either knows or she doesn’t, and he cuts an impressive scene. Enough to persuade someone in over their head to tell him what he needs to know. “I’m friends with Macidus. Friends, business acquaintances, you know how it is. And you’re looking a little out of your element,  _ querida _ . Anything you need to tell me?”

Luka’s eyes are wide, her face going from slightly flushed to pallid and fearful in an instant. “Please. Please, don’t- I tried to get them to fall in line but- I can’t control everything they do, okay? He- he said the meeting tomorrow was important, that the big boss was doing an inspection and supply drop. The guys are getting restless, they want a bigger cut. I’m trying to hold them off but — it’s only going to work for so long. I put the address and folder in his car but… I thought he’d need to hear it from me or he’d really lose his temper.”

_ Jesus. This girl seriously spilled her guts at  _ one _ name drop, did they even vet these people? _

“Hey,” Lance says as he puts a comforting hand on her shoulder, “thanks for keeping me in the loop. We’ll handle the guys, don’t you worry, okay? I’ll talk to Macidus, keep him off your tail. Lemme walk you to the door.” He easily maneuvers her through the crowd, hand lightly on her waist. Touch is important to get people to trust you — and she relaxes more with each step. Sometimes, Lance feels like a real piece of shit, but y’know — maybe don’t get involved with criminal mind-wiping organizations.

Lance drops her off at the door and makes his way to the dance floor to find Keith, who has several men and women vying for his attention. They’re trying to situate themselves either in his line of sight or put their hands on him and — and Lance really isn’t into it. He’s  _ burning _ , the feelings in him shoving at the box he’s put them in, tearing at his chest and moving his legs before his brain can catch up.

Lance unceremoniously shoves himself between Keith and the man attempting to memorize the way his ass moves from five feet away, easily sliding his hands along his hips as they begin moving together.  _ Like a glove _ , Lance thinks, moving Keith’s head to the side and running his mouth up his neck, teeth gently scraping the sensitive skin. Keith tips his head back onto Lance’s shoulder, eyes glinting dangerously until he sees who it is, and then he melts in a way that has Lance swearing and praying to god he can’t feel how much he’s enjoying this.

They’re the same height, so you’d think it would be awkward but — no. They fall right in rhythm with each other, hips flush and eyes darkened with the beat thundering through their chests. Lance has never wanted him so bad, never considered pushing his luck with the one person in his life he can’t lose. He’s thumbing that damn strip of skin between Keith’s shirt and pants, dipping below the front waistband just enough to tease. Lance bites down gently and pulls himself away from the soft flesh of Keith’s neck to his ear, pierced and begging to be nibbled on.

“I got the info we needed. He’s on the move, big bosses coming tomorrow. Folder in the car.” Lance mumbles quietly into his ear, Keith’s glazed eyes coming into sharp focus. He spins around, pulling them closer together with a hand on Lance’s ass.

“Good. I saw him go to the back three minutes ago. Now’s our chance. He came in the side door, so chances are he’s parked out there. No lights either.” Keith keeps glancing down at his lips, and  _ fuck _ what he wouldn’t give to close that last inch of space.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says instead, and loud enough for the people around them to hear. Lance laces their fingers together and makes a show of leaving through the front door, pushing Keith up against walls and laughing into his hair. They finally break into the crisp night, the thud of the club still ringing in their ears.

“All right, Samurai, let’s get to work.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll take point since you kind of stand out in that flashy suit.”

“As if you blend in very well with your stomach out. In my good Christian club, too!”

Keith chuckles, peeking around the corner before giving the all clear. “Something religious about the experience, all right. We need to do that more often.” He glances back at Lance, eyes molten and heavy with meaning. “Maybe next time, we’ll come when we don’t have a secret organization to dismantle.”

Did Keith just ask him on a  _ date _ ? Is that a thing that just happened? He’s struck dumb by the thought, his mouth gaping and open in the cold air of the night. “D-d-d-d-did you just-?!”

But he’s already walked away, his hands deftly moving over the lock mechanism of the car parked there. “You said she left it in the car, right? Think they locked it back up like good little worker bees?” Keith is smirking at him and it’s like a shot straight through his heart.  _ Fuck, I am so gone for this man _ .

Lance crosses his arms and leans against the brick of the alley. “Come on, Red. You already know the answer to that question.”

“I do,” Keith laughs as he opens the door easily — left open by Luka when she left everything they needed right on the front seat.

“I’ll keep a look out while you see if there’s anything else we can use. Remind me later to do background checks on  _ everyone _ when we start our criminal empire. See if they take  _ us _ down like this.” Lance peeks around the corner, eyes locking on the door Macidus used to slip into the club earlier.

“Duly noted,” Keith says from the backseat, his voice muffled as he digs through the cushions. “Also — I have veto rights on our criminal activity. No clones. It’s creepy as hell.”

“Who said anything about clones?”

“I know you, Lance. No. Clones.”

“Alright, Mom. Whatever you sa- oh shit, here he comes, go go go!” Lance sprints back to Keith the second the door swings open and he sees Macidus’ ugly mug stride through, taking the extra precious seconds to gently close the car door. Keith catches his arm as he takes off down the alley, pulling him bodily into a small alcove nestled in the side of the building. They’re chest-to-chest, nose-to-nose, the air suddenly electric and hot.

Lance can’t hear a damn thing over the pounding in his ears, the roar in his chest, or the scream of terror in his veins. He strains, listening to the footsteps draw closer and closer before they stop with the click of a door opening, a car starting, music blaring from speakers. He sags in relief against Keith as the car screams past their hiding spot, their bodies locked together.

Keith is staring at him and he’s staring at Keith, and Lance can feel the way their hearts are thudding frantically in their chests, and the electricity in the air, and he’s going to do it, he’s going to kiss Keith, nothing can stop him, absolutely quiznacking  _ nothing _ -

“We should go,” Keith says, and Lance’s breath, along with his intentions, stutter. Of course they should go. Get out of here while they have the info, while they know the getting’s good. But the way he looks under these neon lights is entrancing, and Lance says nothing for a moment. Pretends this is what he wants, for just a moment.

“Yeah… I guess we should, Red.”

***

Keith is on fire. He’s turning to ash, he’s falling through hell, he’s being cooked from the inside out. Because what the  _ shit _ is he supposed to do with everything that just went down? How is he supposed to ignore the way Lance felt against him, the way his gaze lingered over the tattoos and piercings he’d gotten while he was gone, the way he said “Red” and made it sound like he was really saying “I love you.” Keith is combusting, and he’s tired of keeping it to himself.

The ride back to Lance’s hideout is silent, Keith feigning sleep and the radio a decent backdrop to the night. He can feel the happiness coming off of Lance in waves, but there’s an underlay of tension — a brush of fingers, a dark glance, feelings stuffed deep inside finally spilling over.

Sometimes, he thinks he has a chance… that maybe this is mutual. Lance is good at putting on a show — the suit, the hair, the woman at the bar. Keith just hopes everything between them isn’t some misconception on his part, just putting everything he wants on a few tense moments.

As soon as Lance pulls onto the gravel driveway and flicks the radio off, Keith is unbuckled and out of the car, folder full of information in his hand. He bounds up the stairs easily and feels Lance at his back, the key to the apartment practically burning between his fingers. His hands are only a little shaky when he jams the key in, bursting into the apartment and tossing the folder right onto the countertop.

It’s now or never, he guesses. And Keith was never really known for his patience.

Lance closes the door behind him, a bewildered look on his face as Keith stalks the last few feet between them. “Red, what the-?”

Keith doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t waver, he doesn’t falter, he doesn’t stop to even consider where this goes. He just closes the distance, pushes Lance up against the door.

And he kisses him.

It’s softer than he thought it’d be, his lips gentle as they move against Lance’s, the buzz under his skin slowly melting. Then building, and building, and building, until it becomes an inferno under his tongue and in his chest — taking everything he is and changing it forever, molding him into something new.

Them.

Because Lance is kissing him back like he’s a man dying in the desert and Keith is the rainstorm that saves him. Like he’s in an ocean of his own making, bringing wave after wave to him and willingly going under. Like he’s a rock being battered by the river, changing shape and taking new forms as time pulls him in different ways.

There are no words, but the hands on Keith’s face are gentle and insistent. The nimble fingers find their way into Keith’s hair, clenching into the braid at the base of his skull and pulling a moan from his mouth. He grips Lance’s hips hard and grinds into him, the electricity of the club easily carrying over into his movements, tongue flicking out to beg entrance. Lance meets him in the middle — because of course he does. Never leaves him with doubts after he’s taken the leap, never leaves him wondering where they’re at. He’s right there, taking the chance that this could be more, could be forever.

Keith unhooks his belt in one easy moment and starts pulling at shirt buttons, his mind sharpening to  _ Lance _ and  _ skin _ and  _ more _ . He uses his leverage to pull him around, pushing Lance towards the bedroom while he fumbles with all these damn  _ buttons _ — and who the hell decided there should be so many? Lance sheds his jacket in the kitchen, his shoes and socks easily coming after that, hands pulling at the jeans molded to Keith’s ass in between.

Keith feels him jolt in place as his hand finally dips below the band of his boxer briefs, the slick material tight against his fingers. He’s pushing at Keith’s pants, breath hot and fast between them while his hands do their best to strip him, tries to get their equal footing back. But Keith wants him a little unsettled, a little at his mercy. So he dives in, teeth biting into the dark skin of his neck while his hand finally finds what it’s been looking for.

Lance’s cock is heavy and hot in his hand, soft to his fingers as he strokes the rapidly hardening length, pulling a deep groan from the man in front of him. “Fuck, baby,” Lance whines, nails biting into Keith’s back.

“You have stuff?” Keith asks into his neck, words quiet but full of intent.

“Yeah, just — bedside table.”

Keith pushes him back until his legs hit the bed, knees buckling as he falls. Lance’s eyes are wide, his face flushed and hot with desire as Keith strips his clothes the rest of the way off, suit pants lost to the floor with his underwear. He sits up and trails kisses over Keith’s stomach, tongue and teeth working as expertly as the long fingers peeling his jeans off. Lance hits a spot on his side, teeth grazing and moving lower — and Keith nearly clocks him with his elbow, doubled over in breathless laughter.

“S-stop, I c-can’t! Please, Lance, st-!” Keith can barely get the words out as Lance pulls him down on top of him, teeth and hands digging into the skin on his sides and stomach. Just when he thinks he’s going to die — torture by tickling — does Lance turn the tide to sensual again. His fingers go from digging to stroking, teeth replaced with gentle kisses and sucks that leave dark marks on his skin. Keith readjusts himself, working his way down until they’re nose to nose and sharing air. “This okay?”

“Yeah,” Lance answers easily,  _ eagerly _ . “You have no idea — _ no _ idea how much I want this.”

“I mean,” Keith smirks, gripping his length, “I’ve got a bit of an idea.”

“Oh, fuck o-ha-off!”

“I’d rather fuck you, if you’d be into th-”

“Keith,” Lance says, with all the seriousness one can muster while being completely naked and played with, “if you don’t get on with it, I’m going to just — kick your ass.”

Keith flicks his hand over the head of his cock, pumping faster and drawing moans from Lance’s mouth before standing up to grab lube out of the bedside table. He turns back and takes in the vision in front of him — something he’s dreamed about countless times but never thought he’d get to hold for himself. Lance is stretched out across white sheets, long legs extended and arms folded behind his head, cockiness coming off of him in waves, but eyes a calm ocean of comfort and adoration.

He files it away in his head, burns this moment into his consciousness, his being. And Keith dives in, his mouth and hands everywhere he can reach, moving downward towards what he’s been aching for. He teases, nibbles on Lance’s thighs, softening him up and lowering his guard as he spreads him open. When he thinks he’s got him, mouth hanging open and begging Keith to  _ just get on with it _ , he pulls his legs up and dives in, licking into his entrance.

Keith pops the cap on the lube with his free hand, his tongue pushing in as Lance babbles above him. “Christ, Red, give me some warning next time. Should’ve known you’re the type to eat ass on the first date — wait, was that a date? What the shit, why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve skipped the stakeout and women, you-” he cuts off with a low groan as Keith bites the ass in front of him,  _ hard _ .

He uses the distraction as a way to coat his fingers, sucking a dark mark onto Lance’s skin before mouthing around his thigh, index finger rubbing circles before pushing in. It’s tight, but he loosens up quickly; groaning and panting into the quiet apartment, soft Spanish that Keith can only guess at the meaning of urging him on. When he has three fingers in, spreading and hooked to graze Lance’s prostate, he shoves his legs up once again and adds his tongue, quiet begging going to near sobs.

Keith moans, the feeling of Lance’s ass tightening around his fingers and tongue almost too much — until he suddenly goes taut, heels digging into Keith’s back and desperate sobs wracking his body as he comes untouched. “Christ,” Keith says, awestruck at the wrecked man under him. “You’re actually trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“S- sorry! I didn’t- uh, I swear it’s never-”

He’s cut short by Keith licking up his stomach, pupils blown wide as a thick weight settles between his thighs and teeth gently scrape a nipple. “Lance… can I fuck you now?”

_ Did I just ask that? Is this seriously happening? _

But Lance is already nodding and Keith is lubing himself up, not quite understanding how they went from one kiss to  _ this _ , but not complaining at all. He kisses him long and slow, caressing the soft skin of his face before hooking one leg over his shoulder, then the other. Keith looks at him and waits for a nod before pushing in, gentle and slow and tender.

“Oh fuck, Lance. Fuck, you’re pulling me in, look how easy you take me. So fucking good, Blue.” And Lance is shaking under him, quickly getting hard, gasping for breath. Keith picks up his pace, feeling the burn in his own gut at the sight of Lance splitting open for him.

“Keith,  _ por favor _ !  _ Dame màs _ !” Lance cries, his hips rising to meet each thrust, head thrown back against the pillows as his hands reach above him for leverage. Keith leans down, grinding into him harder, hips snapping and mouth searching. He pushes again, Lance nearly bent in half, and finds his lips ,  crushing them together as his movements become frantic, orgasm building, burning and hot on his heels.

Keith grabs Lance’s wrists, holding them in place as his weight falls further forward, giving in to the wild pace he’s set. Lance positively  _ keens _ at the contact, the only words he seems to know are “baby” and “ _ please _ ” other than the half screams tearing from his throat. Keith leans in, and with the last of his strength, bites the leg on his right shoulder.

And suddenly, Lance is coming again, his arms straining against Keith’s hands while his ass convulses around him, finally pushing him over the edge. Keith comes with a deep, drawn out groan, emptying himself in Lance and collapsing forward, barely stopping himself from crushing the sweat-covered man under him. He slides off of Lance to the side, untangling their limbs and watching him for any signs of pain. He winces some when Keith slips out of him, but his glazed eyes are searching.

Keith presses a kiss to his cheek before grabbing a towel from the doorknob to clean him up, even though Lance is half asleep when he makes it back to the bed. “You’ll be pissed if you wake up with dried cum in your ass in the morning, Blue. Come on, baby.”

Lance’s eyes snap open, his body soft and pliant beneath Keith’s hands. “You… I...”

“Save it for the morning, Sharpshooter.”

“Yeah,” Lance says, nodding as he waves his hands at Keith, pulling him onto his chest. “I’ll make you some pancakes, that sound good?”

“Mhmmm.”

“Keith, are you falling asleep? Did you wake me up just to fall asleep on me?”

“...nnnnn...”

He feels a gentle kiss on his hair, and the darkness is pulling him under faster than he can keep up.

He thinks Lance says something else, something short.

But he’s already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE shout out to the best people in the world, the KWSGC. I love each and every one of you - especially Sara, bc she beta’d this chonky boy of a chapter <3
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos give me life<3


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